


A Paper Garden

by Ivy_in_the_Garden



Category: Hatoful Kareshi | Hatoful Boyfriend
Genre: Domesticity, Human AU, I have feelings, M/M, Post-BBL, Shuu has feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 13:34:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14672136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ivy_in_the_Garden/pseuds/Ivy_in_the_Garden
Summary: “It’s nice, he supposes, whatever it is.”Domesticity with Shuu is not quite what it seems.





	A Paper Garden

It’s nice, he supposes, whatever it is. 

Kazuaki is doing that strange thing, where he rubs his fingers into the aching part of Shuu’s right shoulder, a delicate pressure that leaves a ghost of itself as Kazuaki makes his way across Shuu’s back. 

Despite himself, Shuu sighs into the pillow and curls his hand into the blanket. 

Despite himself, or perhaps in keeping with himself, Shuu idly wonders if this will be the night those lovely ink-darkened fingers will close on his throat. 

Still, Kazuaki’s fingers continue their path, accompanied by the secondhand stories of the lives Kazuaki oversees, in part at least. Anghel broke another window at lunchtime—Ryouta had to leave early today, and did he pass by the infirmary? 

Shuu recognizes the expectant pause. It’s difficult to pretend not to care about Dr. Kawara’s offspring, well, maybe _care_ was quite the wrong word. Perhaps it was idle interest, perhaps boredom. Or perhaps it was that whatever had happened down in the underground labs had changed them all, in that disappointing, trite way that life-altering events tended to.

There was a _bond_ now, among all of them—and if there was anything Shuu disliked more than his students, it was being _linked_ to them. 

It was so irritating. It was like being in some sentimental drivel. 

Kazuaki takes his non-answer as an answer, and resumes his talking, his monologue, really. 

 Shuu moves to face him, relinquishing that nest of heat and soft sheets to place his hand on the curve of Kazuaki’s face, idly, feeling the muscles slacken as Kazuaki cuts off, mid-word. 

“You’re still dyeing your hair,” Shuu observes, lifting his hand to Kazuaki’s rough, bleached hair, feathered with split ends. 

Something moves beneath that mirror-face of Kazuaki’s, but he lowers Shuu’s hand with all the gentle firmness of a schoolteacher. 

“I’d hate to shock you all,” he replies simply.

But in those moments, Shuu likes to think he can see the real "Kazuaki,” the real Hitori, the murderer. The one just like him, who can kill—and perhaps it’s worse for Kazuaki, because Shuu has never pretended to be anyone’s savior. 

He doesn’t have the patience for it. 

 “I doubt you could shock me,” Shuu says, and as he does, he wonders if that twitch of Kazuaki’s hand is purely coincidental. 

They’re the same really—two men with quotation marks over their names, like a warning, the way some snakes have red bands across their bodies. _Stay away, stay away._

 Stuck by a sudden urge, Shuu lifts Kazuaki’s hand to his throat and as Kazuaki’s fingers curl against the rolling, echoing heartbeat in his veins, Shuu only wonders how the man will dispose of the twins. He can’t let them live after getting his dear wish; after all, what were they, if not the relics of a shadow, whose influence has begun to wan? It seems cruel to think of Dr. Kawara like this, but Shuu cannot decide if it is in this moment. 

And then, with a long look tinged with hatred and self satisfaction, Kazuaki withdraws his hand, letting it slip free of Shuu’s grasp—and Shuu doesn’t know just why he viciously hates the man now. 

And then, somewhere, Miru wails and Kaku joins in sympathy, and the illusion returns.

Kazuaki sighs, an indulgent teacher again. “Let me handle it this time.” 

Shuu waits on the bed, a sullen odelesque, twisting his fingers into the fringe of the decorative pillow Kazuaki insisted on adding to their bed. He listens for the sudden screams and sharp intakes, but nothing comes, except the two red-faced marshmallows and Kazuaki with the hem of his tired bathrobe dogging his calves. 

They bound into bed, obviously having cried for the attention; Miru unceremoniously shoves the pillow away from Shuu, snuggling close to him in its absence. Kaku, meanwhile, burrows under the blanket, eyes half closed. 

At least, he thinks it’s Kaku. He can’t exactly tell the twins apart, and he doubts if they can either. 

But Kazuaki returns to bed and to investigating the tension in Shuu’s left shoulder, seemingly earnest in his wish to relieve Shuu of his dull pain. 

And Shuu doesn’t know if he’s just escaped something or prolonged it. Either way, the heavy breathing of Miru and Kaku make a deafening white noise, especially when Miri decides to sleep sprawled over Shuu like a starfish—a decision Shuu quickly corrects. 

 And they carry on, much as they’ve always done. 

**Author's Note:**

> For this fanfic, I wanted to capture what I imagine would be the undercurrent of Shuu/Kazuaki. This was actually meant to be way more lighthearted and fluffy.... oh well! Thank you for reading! Comments are loved.


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